


Shatter, Burn

by riais



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Charles-centric, Emma Frost HBIC, Erik has Feelings, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Poor Charles, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riais/pseuds/riais
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a pulsing, burning force in his head, held back by years of repression and denial, of constructed barriers and walls that push back a power that isn't quite his. Heat batters his skin and the taste of ashes in his mouth lays heavy on his tongue, but it's all just as distant to him as the bird rising high in the air, its body made of fire and smoke.</p><p>You can do anything, the fire says, sharp in his mind. You could be a god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter, Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunryder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunryder/gifts).



> I want to thank all of the people that helped me through writing this. Considering this is my longest fic and the first one I've ever finished, I needed a lot of help, and I'm very grateful for the people that gave it to me. Thank you to my beautiful Austin who gave me some great notes to incorporate and helped me finish this thing (without you it wouldn't have been possible), thank you to Roz for looking it over last minute and betaing, thanks to Wall and Ike who cheerleaded along the way, along with everyone else in the chat, and thank you especially to Sunryder for prompting this piece in the first place. You can find the wonderful work that started it all linked at the bottom. You all are fantastic!

_Fire swells and rises as high as it is able, licking at the ceiling and the walls. It engulfs him, fills in the cracks and ridges in his mind, spilling into every cavity, but it never once touches him physically. The flames fill his head and spill out, swirling around his physical body, the waves of fire licking at the floor near his bare feet. He’s suddenly a child crying and cowering at the center of wreckage, his stepfather’s death still fresh on his senses like rotting aftertaste of his consciousness in Charles’ thoughts.  The building burns to ashes around him. He’s choking on smoke, lungs burning and desperate for air. He remains untouched from the flames but the air crowds around him. There is something at his back; though he cannot see it he can hear the hum of power that he does not quite understand._

 

\---

 

He woke panting, sweating and gasping, trying to orient himself to where he was, laying tangled in the hotel’s scratchy sheets. He lay for a long moment willing himself to breath normally and then slowly rose out of bed, his knees threatening to give out under him as he began his morning routine.

 

He needed to focus on calming himself before meeting with Moira down in the hotel’s parking lot.

 

“It was only a dream,” he said out loud to himself. He did not feel all that convinced.

 

\---

 

“Charles, I don’t think he’s coming.” Moira took a long drink from her small styrofoam cup of coffee. Charles looked back and shushed her with a playful smile.

 

“He’ll come,” he said confidently, “just wait a few moments longer.” He turned to look out at the half-abandoned parking lot of the hotel, leaning his hip against the hood of the agency car they had driven out to Florida.

 

“I don’t understand why we’re waiting in the first place. You pull a complete stranger from the water and expect him to follow us. We don’t know the first thing about this man or what he wants. This is a horrible idea.” She was pacing some beside the car. Raven lounged in the back, picking at her nails. Levine tapped impatiently at the steering wheel. He nodded agreement at Moira’s objections.

 

Charles scoffed and turned back to look at her again, “Moira, really. I think you’re safe trusting my judgments.” He turned back, “Anyways,” he said, “we’re going to need all the help we can get if we’re serious about taking down this Shaw character.” The faint grimace on Charles’ face went unnoticed, “and I’d rather our new friend not be left behind.”

 

They waited several more minutes, Moira pacing in small steps, her heels clicking a rhythm into the asphalt. Once she’d decided they had waited much longer than they should have, she opened her mouth again, "Charles, we really should-" He held up his hand, smug smile back on his face.

 

"Wait," he said, "he's decided to join us." Charles smiled to himself and his 'I told you so,' went unsaid. It was a long moment before Moira saw him, but he rounded the corner at a brisk pace, suitcase in hand and dark glasses perched on his nose. As he reached them, Charles took a step forward, “Glad you could make it.” He sounded absolutely thrilled. Moira folded her arms over her chest, frowning as she looked their new arrival over; she did not trust this.

 

“I’m not guaranteeing anything,” he replied.

 

Charles smiled and slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “You’re here now. That’s all I can ask.”

 

\--

 

The drive back to the base was long, yet uneventful. Charles spent most of the time trying to lean around Raven as he attempted to engage Mr. Erik Lensherr in any kind of conversation he could. He talked animatedly, moving his arms as he asked questions Erik would hardly answer. Mostly Charles asked excitedly of his ability; Erik was almost awkwardly silent. That did not seem to faze Charles.

 

Rather, he ignored it. Charles could feel Erik’s apprehension at talking about himself, and he could sense the unease at being in the car with those he did not know. Erik was not a man that one could win trust with easily. Charles saw that as a challenge. At least there was a familiarity, for Charles at least, who often forgot that his knowledge of an individual did not go both ways. Charles suspected that the only reason Erik had joined them was the simple fact that Raven, once he had met her on the ship, and Charles especially, were both mutants.

 

The thought drifted through Erik’s mind more than once as he skillfully avoided talking about himself. Charles did not dive deeper than that. He did not need to. For once in his life, Erik was not alone. That thought more than anything else rested calmly at the surface of a mind that was a maelstrom underneath the layers of stoicism that he presented around himself.

 

Erik stuck close once they arrived. Whether it was for the simple comfort of familiarity or something more, Charles did not bother to look. Instead he focused his attention elsewhere, seeping into the minds of those around him he walked through the base, feeling out intent, loyalty, and surface attitudes. The practice was a habit, really, to know every person in a room before he ever walked into it.

 

The day dragged on. Meetings and introductions took up the majority of it. Meeting Dr. McCoy was quite the surprise, though Charles wished he had thought to keep the young man’s mutation to himself. At the very least, though, it had endeared Hank to Raven and given him someone to talk to about his mutation. Charles would be interested in the potential the bright young man could bring to an operation like the one they were planning. It left more to be explored. Given the chance, Charles would not hesitate to take Hank under the proverbial wing.

 

Hours progressed into days. Plans moved forward. Hank grew closer with Raven. Charles tried to grow closer with Moira and failed. Perhaps the error had occurred at the point he had decided to pursue her regardless of their working relationship, but had been confident enough that he had tried anyways. His ego was perhaps a little bruised, but on the whole, it really was not anything to spend time worrying over.

 

After all, this was a professional capacity they found themselves in. Getting distracted would not help. Charles found he had enough of those lately, with all that had happened since Moira had found him and asked for his help. Erik certainly counted as one of them. As enjoyable as he found Moira to be, Erik _fascinated_ him on a level that he was just barely able to explain. The man’s mind was shrouded in dark thoughts and barely contained trauma. His mind shouted its anger, but on the surface he was calm and collected. He had been raised as a machine, but Charles found he quite liked the man buried underneath.

 

He was so glad, then, to see that Erik had decided to stay, even if Charles had known that he would.

 

They tested Cerebro next.

 

Erik did not trust it, voicing his opinions to the room, “It’s not something that’s even been tested, and you’re going to make yourself the first subject?”

 

But Hank swore the machine could be harnessed. “I designed it myself, and according to all the data I have, it should work just fine.”

 

“ _Should work,_ ” Erik muttered under his breath, but Charles was sure that Erik knew quite well that if this machine worked it would give them all an incredible advantage.

 

Charles, meanwhile, was quite willing, and even he could have admitted the excited bounce in his step that let him walk up to that machine. He quieted Erik’s worries with optimistic assurances and told him in confidence that using this machine was well worth it’s risk. They needed help, and Charles knew this could be their best chance to find it. Not only did this improve their chances of completing this mission, but Charles knew all too well what it meant to be found by someone who was like you, and he wanted to give that to as many others as he possibly could. No one deserved to be alone.

 

And with that attitude, Charles placed Cerebro’s headpiece over his head.

 

His telepathy snapped out, reaching further than he ever thought possible. He could see every mind across an incredible span and could feel them all within him. He stood in awe under that machine as his consciousness flew along the networks of minds to find those with mutant powers that they were searching for. The very force of his mind expanding so far beyond its usual scope rocked him back on his heels and endless possibilities sprang to life right behind his eyes. Charles had never experienced such space and breadth in his before. He pushed further and further, seeking his limits and locking on to other mutants with fascinating gifts all around the globe.

 

Finally he hit a wall and was reminded too well what his limits where. He bounced off barriers of his own making that he hardly remembered existed. A memory came to the forefront of his thoughts. It was a distant one and he purposefully ignored it, instead focusing on reaching further to find more mutants, weaving and soaring through Cerebro’s enhanced network.

 

The machine itself was extraordinary. If given the choice, he would have stayed in much longer. However, the worry drifting off of the others in the room distracted him, and once he had finished the session, he decided to put the machine away with the promise to return again at a later time.

 

He ignored the headaches that began after. He also ignored the memories that threatened to crop up in their wake. The negative side effect were not important, and no one else needed to know about them. After all, this was the price of scientific progress, and if no one suffered it, innovation would never leap forward.

 

\---

 

When Charles Xavier stretched out his mind and was rocked back from his own wall, Emma Frost felt the shockwave.

 

She paused what she was doing and lifted her face toward the ceiling of the submarine, her entire body stilling.She had felt this before, another telepath in the spaces of other minds around her, “Check the radar,” she said to Azazel. She stepped toward the periscope, drawing it down to look off in the distance and saw just what she had expected: nothing but ocean waves.

 

“Nothing,” he said.

 

“Look again.”

 

She swiveled it around. Still nothing. The telepath’s reach could not possibly be this far. This strength was not possibly a natural reach of his abilities. There was also something else, burning under the surface, that sent a strong shiver down her spine. This was not just the telepath she felt; there was another sense, not even a mind, but something else attached to him. She’d felt it the night that they had escaped on the submarine. She had thought, at first, that this was just a part of his mutation, like her secondary diamond form. She was starting to suspect that there was more to it than that.

 

“There’s nothing on radar?” She asked as she stepped away, knowing the answer.

 

“Nyet.”

 

“Sonar?”

 

He glanced back at her, as if this should be obvious and shook his head, “Nyet.”

 

“Then we have a problem.” She stepped away, walking toward the back of the submarine.

 

She could feel this power pulling at her now that she had sensed it and this both excited and terrified her. It called to her across the distance that the other telepath had left. The force was still there and still burning in the periphery of her mind. She wondered, perhaps, if it could feel her as well. She wanted that energy. Whatever it was, it was not natural. Even placed beyond a constructed barrier she could still feel its power and potential.

 

It could serve their plans. It could serve _her_ plans. If there was a way to harvest it, then she would.

 

She would discuss her plan with Sebastian Shaw. Postpone the meeting with the defence chief in Moscow, she would say. This was much more important. Either way, with or without the telepath’s strange unnatural power, she had felt him searching and knew they were attempting to gather others.

 

She had to know what the telepath was hiding for himself and figure out how to stop it and harness it.

 

\---

 

Days on the road took its toll on Charles. He discovered this several days into the trip as they settled down for the night after a long day of driving.  They had located another mutant earlier that morning, but had not been able to convince them to come with them. Charles could not blame the young man, and though Erik’s frustration over this wasted part of the trip and the young mutant’s reluctance to join and help left a bad taste in his mouth, he ignored it and knew that they would not be able to recruit everyone they found.

 

Charles and Erik sat across from each other, a chessboard between them, drinking cheap wine from the liquor store down the street and discussing the mutant they had met that morning. Charles enjoyed Erik’s company, and though he did not agree with everything Erik said, he respected him and considered his cleverness and knack for a good conversation or debate a rare gift in itself. He had never met someone he so thoroughly enjoyed speaking with before.

 

Normally, on better days, Charles would stay up all night debating with Erik, talking in soft tones about charged topics, but tonight he could not find it in himself to continue their conversation.

 

He cut Erik off mid sentence with a terribly guilty look on his face, “I’m sorry, Erik,” he said quietly, “I’m not sure I’m up to this tonight.” He rubbed at his temple and winced, momentary pain shooting across his face. He sat his glass down. “I think I should turn in early.”

 

“This is rare,” Erik commented, leaning back in his chair, his eyes looking Charles over as if studying his condition, and his voice resigned to a night cut short, “is it your telepathy?”

 

Charles nodded, “Yes, though, I can’t imagine why now.” He had not been near Cerebro in over a week. He could not fathom it was still having effects on him now.

 

Erik was quiet for a long moment, still watching him. Charles was certain he would ask further questions, but instead Erik stood.

 

“I believe that’s my cue to leave,” he said, “we can play again tomorrow.”

 

“Of course,” Charles replied, his face stretched a little tighter than normal.

 

Once Erik left, Charles finished the wine in his glass and changed before turning off the light and slipping under his covers.

 

Sleep did not come easy, but once it arrived, he dreamed of fire mingling with fear and pain.

 

\---

 

Charles did not get things like ‘bad feelings.’ Bad feelings were for those that could sense the future in some way or pull at the threads of whatever Fate existed and watched what fell from afar. Those kinds of stories were for old wives tales and the superstitious. He knew of nothing like that that even truly existed; Charles read people’s intentions and knew what they were going to do before they ever acted. There was a difference between knowing the outcome of a situation and knowing people.

 

Suffice to say, Charles had a bad feeling. His head ached. His body was on fire some nights. His mind stretched too far and left him exhausted the next morning. He had dreams he could not explain, and knowledge beyond his normal scope. He wanted to tell himself it was only a side effect of Cerebro, but could not, in the same thought, force himself to believe it.

 

It was one final dream that made him say that he would not go to Russia and that Erik should not go as well. But Erik was his own person, and despite Charles’ best efforts to convince him otherwise, Erik would leave to Russia without him. Charles could not will himself to go. As certain as he was about what he felt, he also believed firmly that he was in no state to join them. He felt disconnected and ill at ease.

 

He felt as if he was not acting rationally, and because of this, could not in good conscience come with them. Would he even be any good like this?

 

The dream had started with fire, as happened lately. The place was familiar, but the faces were blurred. Their minds filled his head and he knew what they wanted; he could see them envision it. The objective was clear, and from where Charles saw this happening, he felt as if he were on the right side of Death herself. The idea chilled Charles at his core, a terror like ice washing over him despite rising flames creeping high through the dreamscape. There were two people he could not see in this dream, shielded by something out of his mind’s reach. He knew, though, that they would be there in the way he knew that the plan was in place for them to be. The others envisioned them there and he could only watch from their thoughts what was to take place..

 

Wind and speed would tear through the building, and a flitting mind would tear others apart. The thoughts behind these actions were cold and calculative and all he could feel was a resounding message: Kill the humans. Spare the mutants. Give them the chance to join us. If they do not, they are by definition against us.

 

Charles, despite knowing it was only a feeling, knowing this was irrational and that he could not truly believe that this dream was real, knew he had to stay. Erik looked at him with searching eyes, and then turned to leave with the Moira and the handful of CIA operatives with her. If Shaw was in Russia as the intel said, Erik was going to find him. Charles could only watch as they left and silently wish him luck.

 

\---

 

Though Charles had seen the chain of events play through the eyes of those intending harm in his dream, he was not prepared for what happened next, as the plan was set into motion.

 

His power gave him such semblance of strength, allowed him to feel people’s thoughts and emotions, but when the time came, he found himself so powerless to deal with the reality that followed. The attack caught him off guard and he was left completely defenseless. A sudden pain speared through his mind like a thin shard of glass through a soft surface. He was alone in his private quarters when it the attack happened, and it startled him into crying out. Though it was unexpected, it was also somehow so familiar.

 

He had a brief moment where he realized where he had felt it before, staring over the black water that night as the CIA pursued Sebastian Shaw’s boat.

 

He could not give them opportunity this time. Though he was unable to send his telepathy out, he knew he had to do something. He stumbled from the room and ran, one hand pressed hard against his temple in an attempt to at least dull the pain. Unaccustomed to defending against other telepaths, his abilities were seemingly rendered useless. He had never been so completely cut off before. He felt as if he were floundering in the dark without one of his most important senses and fear wrenched him into panic as he ran down the hall.

 

He had to find the children, his own safety be damned.

 

He ran toward where they had last been, avoiding the fighting and the sounds of gunfire and people screaming. There was a short moment that he was grateful his telepathy had been stunted when he realized he’d been saved the experience of feeling them dying in his head. But he could not be so insensible as to only think of himself. These were people dying. They had homes and families and lives. And whatever he could do to stop this from happening to anyone else, he would.

 

He would press on and protect the others if he could. He knew the attackers would head for the children, remembering what he had seen and been so foolish to pass off as merely paranoia.

 

An explosion rocked the structure, throwing Charles off his feet. He was close to the children, but he had to get closer. He had to find Raven and the others and protect them in any way that he could. He pushed himself back up as quickly as possible and took off again.

 

There was smoke rising through the building and fire at his back as he ran. People were dead and dying. He had seen so much of this before, hoping that it was a creation of his thoughts and nothing more, denying that it could be something to worry over.

 

He had truly seen a version of the future through someone else’s intentions. But how could his reach have stretched so far to know this? Was Cerebro responsible?

 

He pushed past the agents and their guns that would not save them and yelled at them, “It won’t work. You have to get away!” but they ignored him, and as much as he wanted to force them to back out he could not. The strain on his mind from this other telepath’s attack was too great. So he mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ and pushed past them toward the room where the others would hopefully be.

 

The children were standing crowded near each other by the wall when Charles ran in. He was out of breath and his hands were shook as he comed them through his hair, coming to a stop past the door. Raven took one look at him and her fallen face lit up in relief. “Charles!” She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. She was on the verge of tears and clung to him tightly.

 

“Are you all alright?” He asked the group.

 

“Not really,” Darwin replied. If Charles could feel it, fear would be palpitating the room. Seeing it on their faces, wide eyed and shaking, was enough to know what they were feeling. There was a sudden crash from beyond the broken window, and then a gunshot. Raven startled backwards and gasped as another man fell dead in front of them. A teleporter transported again behind the back of another man and cut him through with his blade. Charles grabbed Raven’s arm to keep them both steady as he backed them further against the wall.

 

“Can’t you do something?” she asked desperately.

 

He gave her a swift panicked look and said, “We need to leave, right now,” but before he could move, there was a series of gunshots and screams from the hallway.

 

Everything went silent. Three of Shaw’s associates entered the room, stepping through the window. The red-skinned teleporter stepped through, followed by the one in control of wind and the other telepath stepping through on the other side.

 

Then, Sebastian Shaw entered the room himself. Charles placed himself in front of Raven and pushed her backwards toward the rest of them. He leveled Shaw with a long look.

 

“You must be the telepath.”

 

“He is,” Frost cut in.

 

“Excellent,” Shaw said, “Just who I was looking for.”

 

Charles stood tall, his back rigid. “What do you want from us?”

 

“Charles?” Raven said with a shaking voice. He knew what she was asking without even hearing or knowing it from her mind. Why aren’t you doing anything?

 

Charles winced as her power pierced through his mind again. Emma Frost’s smile was all teeth, “Poor thing,” she purred, “She thinks you’ll save them.”

 

“What do you want?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. He took great effort to keep it steady, but he held his ground trying not to seem so affected. The one thing giving him the strength to do so were those in his charge behind him. He had brought each of them into this. It would be his responsibility to get them out.

 

“Coincidently,” Shaw said, “We want you to join us.”

 

“After that little display,” he said incredulously “I would say not.”

 

Shaw stepped forward, a good humored smile on his face, “There’s a revolution coming.” His eyes passed Charles to glance over those behind him. “When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. You can either be enslaved, or rise up to rule.”

 

“Save it,” Charles cut in. “What you’re suggesting is murder. _More_ needless murder. This isn’t a solution to-”

 

“You’ve obviously made your decision.” Shaw stared at him, eyes sharp and focused. He still held the smile on his face despite the venom in his words, “But what about them? Shouldn’t they have the freedom to choose as well?”

 

Charles lips pressed into a thin line, “They have the freedom of an informed decision.”

 

Shaw smirked. “We have a difficult one here. Pity. It was you I was most interested in.”

 

“Then leave. You’re not going to find help for your cause here.”

 

“Are you sure about that, Charles?” Frost said, a soft smile to her lips, her voice sweet. “How certain are you that they would follow you and your ideals?” She picked her way over the glass toward them, her long white heels crunching over what shards she missed. She came to rest close to Shaw’s shoulder.

 

“Do we need to resort to violence?” Shaw asked, head tilted slightly. The glare from the lights above glanced off the helmet, leaving his face in a strange and menacing shadow. “You would be powerless to stop us as you are now. Your young friends would be killed and it would be on your hands. Pity, that. I would hate to snuff young talent in its prime.”

 

Charles gritted his teeth. “You might as well say what you really mean.”

 

“What I mean is this,” Shaw began. His impatience had begun to show throw his faux-polite exterior, “We offer our hand to them and let them come with us.”

 

Frost spoke as well, “You know looking at them who would go. You know looking at them who would try to stop it. You know what that would devolve into.” Charles’ eyes flicked over to her. “Believe me, darling. You would save a lot of time by just coming with us.”

 

“This is bullshit,” Alex muttered, and began to step forward.

 

Charles looked back and stopped his progress forward with a simple “ _Stop._ ” He met his eyes. “They have far more control over this situation than you right now. You’ll only harm yourselves by trying to fight them when there are other solutions.” He glanced at Darwin, “Don’t think that you’ll accomplish anything by being rash.”

 

He gave one final, lingering look at Angel before turning back to face Shaw and Frost in front of him. He had known each of these young people behind him for only a short time, but those looks into their minds had given him prospective on what they may be thinking now. He knew Darwin’s propensity to self sacrifice, just as he knew how Angel felt uncomfortable in her own skin when people looked at her and how rash Alex could be when making a decision. “Giving people reason to fear us isn’t going to change anything. It will only make it worse. Fighting hate and paranoia with violence will only lead to more violence, and if that’s the only thing I can impart on you, I hope it sticks.”

 

“Charles-” Raven started, a warning in her voice. She knew. She knew the tone of his voice and  set of his shoulders and knew he had made a decision.

 

“You don’t get to force your radical thoughts on them. I think you know that I won’t allow you to do that.”

 

“We both know you don’t have much leverage to order me around.” Shaw’s grin turned wicked, showing his teeth, “What power do you have without your precious telepathy? How confident are you in getting all of you out of this alive?”

 

“You know what needs to happen,” Emma said. “And for someone like you, its the best choice you could make.”

 

Charles glanced behind him one last time before meeting Shaw’s eye again. “If I leave with you, you won’t touch them.”

 

Shaw stroked at the metal of his helmet and looked across the room. “If you come with us, we’ll leave your friends alone.”

 

Raven let out a small, “No,” shaking her head and looking toward Charles, but he was already stepping forward. Alex grabbed her arm as she began to move toward stopping him. He gave a quick shake of his head, and she watched, terror building in her chest, as Charles moved toward Shaw’s group.

 

“I’ll go,” he said, his voice even despite his tension, “They would manage to take me anyway if I refused and hurt all of you in the process.” His mouth was a thin line and gritted teeth, but he still managed a small polite smile. “The moment you touch them you’ll have far more to worry about than what that helmet can protect you from.” He stood with shoulders squared, and despite his fear he had just enough confidence of possible escape to keep him moving forward.

 

“I applaud your bravado,” Shaw said, following a chuckle. “Azazel.” At the unspoken command, the teleporter grabbed Charles and dragged him forward. He had just enough time to send _I’ll be fine_ toward Raven before they all vanished into thin black smoke.

 

The air pressed in on him from all directions, the pressure immense and terrible. It was disorienting, and though he felt as if he would collapse in on himself, he also felt thin, as if he were being stretched out too far. He willed his mind to focus, and though they arrived at their destination in far under a minute, a plan had already began to form in Charles’ mind.

 

Before he could act, however, Frost reached forward and, grabbing him by the collar with one hand, brandished a long syringe with the other and stuck it into his neck.

 

“What are you-”

 

His vision faded to black and he fell forward as his knees gave way.

 

He dreamt of an incident in Russia. A van had been stopped at a checkpoint, and a man’s anger saved them by violence, only later to discover that they had traveled so far for nothing.

 

 “You’re going to be just fine, sugar,” Frost said in a faux sweet drawl. She dragged him by his collar, his feet barely finding purchase on the floor, and dropped him into a large metal chair in the center of the room. His head dipped down, too heavy to hold up. His telepathy, stunted, was much too weak to lift beyond the borders of his own mind. He felt as if he were climbing muddy walls and slipping ever further back into the ground below. His breathing was labored. His eyes focused and unfocused on the scratched tile below his feet, and he shook his head side to side trying to keep his eyes open. He had to stay awake at least. He blinked.

 

He had to-

 

Time took shortcuts and detours through abstract paths. He was on a non-linear trajectory in a future that he was not sure was even real. Or had time moved at all? Was he in fact stuck in a suspended second, never moving forward as the world spun around him? His thoughts were leaking out around the edges. He could not be sure. In the small, windowless bunker they held him in, the passage of time was impossible to track. And though time did not move in straight lines, people were moving. They were blurs passing through the room. His eyes stung. It was too bright. They were too _bright._ Charles could not get a handle on any of them. He kept falling backward, grabbing at nothing. The air slipped through his fingers. Finally, after too long, or not long at all, he found a mind and tried to latch on, but his telepathy hit a wall and the wall hit back.

 

There was an audible tsk in his head and a voice that said to him _Behave, dear. Don’t make this harder than it has to be._

 

He shuddered at the intrusion, and time left him again.

 

Gravity held him in place; limb by limb it tied him to the chair he sat in. He could not move and had no desire to. “What are you doing to me?” he asked once. He was met with a smirk on a long face and a silky voice that told him not to have any fear.

 

Everything would be just fine.

 

Charles did not believe for one moment, but he didn’t have a chance, or a choice. There was someone else in his headspace, sifting through his memories and his emotions. Her claws were deep and piercing, the pain sharp and crystalline.

 

She dug and dug. He found himself wishing she would just find what she was looking for. All he wanted was to sleep. The fear he should have felt, _his_ fear, seemed just out of reach. Emotion became a blank space, a void, as if he had been detached from himself and had lost the capacity to feel at all. What, if he lived through this, would the lasting damage be? He did not have the capacity to wonder.

 

His mind felt so very heavy. His eyes closed.

 

Fire called to him once he was allowed sleep. It licked at him, tentative, yet powerful.

 

A sudden delight flooded through his senses and his eyes snapped open. Emma Frost stood, all white, against the dark backdrop of the room, her gleeful smile standing out even more. “I knew you had it in you,” she said, her voice thick and lilting. She reached to touch his face and dove into his mind.

 

Again she dug, but this time she reached bottom and into the pulsing strength deep beneath. Her hands brushed tenderly against walls Charles had constructed in his mind himself, always for his own and others’ safety. She brought her shimmering hand back and smashed it into the shields. The wall splintered across the surface, and liquid flame seeped from the cracks. He began to choke on the image of grit and dust and fire as she pulled something that should not be there from the depths of his mind.

 

This was too much. Emma Frost clutched at the burning, pulsing force in her ethereal hand, and she had no idea what she had done.

 

The walls in his head fell, and the power flooded his mind the way snow falls from the mountain, burying everything beneath to suffocate under a layer of silence. But the avalanche was fire, and it came in a rush as Emma lost her grip on the power in her hand and was slammed back out of Charles’ head.

 

Charles screamed. Everything stilled, and he saw spots until it all went black.

 

\---

 

He woke on the cold floor, his blood pounding in his ears and his breaths heaving in short, shallow gasps from his aching chest. There was fire breaking apart his skin, and his body was so tight around his soul he could have sworn he would choke on it, the way it clung to him. He rose to his hands and knees, but nausea and dizziness rocked him forward. He braced himself on the cold tiled floor, slowly shaking his head to drive it away.

 

After what could have been no amount of time at all or long hours stretched over days, he stood and walked forward. Each footstep carried him to a door. No one stopped him. Charles, or perhaps, something now more than himself, reached out, twisted the handle, and stepped through the doorway.

 

What he found, what he knew he created, was a life hanging on strings, frozen in time and place.

 

They were all, each member of the Hellfire Club, held in space by Charles’ surge in power. Shaw, foolishly, had assumed that Charles, disoriented, drugged, and broken by Frost, could not have been a threat, and had removed his helmet.

 

Charles-or what moved through him-could feel Shaw’s energies as they called to him, limitless and all powerful. They were so very close to the power inside Charles. But Shaw did not create the powers of the universe, he only took from it, not like the strength that Charles held, lighting him up from the inside. With that, Charles lost interest in the now jumbled strength of nature and turned to the others.

 

The rawest force of the universe could never be lived up to by something like _that._

 

Stopped where she stood beside Shaw, Frost had also been frozen in space. The others were not as prominent a threat, and he did not know much about them, even though his mind slid through their consciousnesses. He withdrew. They did not matter. They had all misjudged him. They had misjudged this part of him. By breaking the barriers, Emma had set it free. A part of himself whispered _This isn’t you_ , but he chose to ignore the distant echoes of something more human and walked through the room instead, tendrils of power trailing behind him.

 

He could _destroy_ them. He had so much power, so much more than he should, and it flooded through his senses in a way that, in its wake, left nothing behind. He could have stopped it there.

 

At a glance he knew every part of their plan and he could have halted every part of it, from convincing the Russians and the US to place missiles and every design forward. But Charles’ control wavered, because a buried part of him dissented, and the room shuttered as if in stop-motion. He found himself slipping from the high of the fire dancing through him. It began to recede, slipping through his fingers and he knew he had to get away, and fast, before his power left him completely.

 

The once human part of him broke the surface, and Charles struck out with the last of his fading strength and laced himself into the will of the teleporter.

 

\---

 

His feet hit the concrete and he stumbled forward, falling onto his hands and knees. He gasped for air and detached himself from Azazel’s mind with the suggestion to return from where Charles had taken him and to forget where he had been. He had hooked in with such force and lack of restraint that he feared possibly he may have left some permanent damage on the mutant’s mind, but Azazel disappeared from view before Charles could change his mind about sending him away.

 

Charles pushed himself to his feet, placing a steadying hand against a near wall. Azazel had landed the two of them in an alley, from what he could tell (though his vision blurred in and out of focus as he stood there), and if Charles was right, he was now stranded in D.C. One step at a time, Charles forced his feet forward toward the mouth of the alley, willing his legs not to give out or his head not to lose consciousness. He needed a phone. He had to get back to the others, if in fact they were still where he could reach them. A part of him feared what he would find upon returning.

 

He attempted to compose himself. Leaning heavily against some nondescript shop wall, he combed shaking fingers through his hair and straightened his shirt to look hopefully somewhat presentable. He waited a moment and, taking a deep breath, stepped away from the wall to find someone who could spare him some change for a payphone.

 

\---

 

Charles watched as Erik left the car sprinted up the steps to where he had sat to rest, but did not register it as Erik, and did not connect that someone was here to save him from himself. He had managed to carry himself up to the stoop of an old apartment building and was leaning against the brick wall, curled in on himself, head against his knees. Erik kneeled down in front of him, face in his vision. Charles could feel the rush of relief at finding him and worry at what might have happened to put him in this condition, but it was lost with the rest of the city, and Charles could not grasp on to it.

 

“Charles, are you alright?” Erik reached out for his face, gently lifting his chin when he did not respond. “Look at me,” he said, “Charles.”

 

Charles did not look at him, letting his eyes drift to far away places even though there were hands on his face trying to get his attention.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Charles heard a female voice, followed by shoes  that scraped against the concrete.

 

“I don’t know,” Erik said. “Charles, can you hear me?”

 

Charles still would not meet his eyes, but his brow furrowed in confusion as he finally put the voice with a name he knew, “..Erik,” he finally muttered, “you found me?”

 

Erik’s thumb smoothed over Charles’ cheek unconsciously. “I’m here. We’re going to take you back to the base.”

 

“It’s too loud here,” Charles groaned, his face contorting into a grimace, “It’s too much. Please.”

 

“Alright, I’ve got you. Can you stand?”

 

“I don’t-” he started, “No good.” Charles licked his lips, swallowed, and lapsed into silence. After a while he said, “ah. I’m not grounded.”

 

“Not grounded?” The other voice asked the question. Erik only shook his head.

 

“Too far away from myself.” He closed his eyes and his hands clenched into fists against his trouser legs. “Too many minds.” He shuddered involuntarily. “My shields are down.”

 

“Alright,” Erik said softly, “I can just carry you to the car. We’ll get you somewhere quiet.” Charles did not respond before he felt Erik place one arm behind his back and one under his knees and, lifting with very little trouble, made his way down the steps and back to the car.

 

Charles was gently into the backseat. Before Erik drew away, Charles set a hand gently on his forearm, and, in a small voice only Erik heard, said, “Thank you.” Erik placed a cool hand lightly on his face in response before letting it slip away. The back door closed and the front opened. Both got into the car, and the ignition came to life.

 

Not long after, Charles’ eyelids fluttered and his head began to lull. The minds of the city clutching at his head became flickering after-images in the back of his skull as the city flew past the windows.

 

\---

 

_More fire. There is always fire around him now, always screams in the back of his head as a terrifying power sinks into his bones. It spreads outwards, extinguishing the lights of each individual his mind comes into contact with, silencing their pain and screaming._

 

_And then it snaps back, bringing all the suffering with it, and fills his mind with the grief and pain of a thousand people pulling at the links he has constructed to their heads, desperate to be free._

 

\---

 

Charles woke three days later with a headache that felt as if it would split his head apart, tearing at hair and skin until he were two separate pieces. He had curled himself into the fetal position, crying out as fire licked over him. He knew it was not physically present but it burned at the underside of his skin. Cool hands shook him, and his eyes opened. “Charles!”

 

In a rush, he sat up, breathing heavily and shivering despite the burning beneath his skin. He grasped out without thinking, wrapping his hand around Erik’s forearm.

 

“Oh. What-” He looked up to Erik’s face and then down to his white-knuckled hand. His other clinked against the metal frame of the bed he’d been laying on. He stared at the handcuffs around his wrist, attaching one of them to the bed. After a moment he released his grip on Erik’s arm. After some hesitation, Erik drew his arm back.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I-What’s happened?” His voice was panicked. Handcuffed? What had happened for him to deserve this? Erik regarded him for long enough that Charles began to feel nervous of what Erik would say upon opening his mouth.

 

“Erik, please. What’s wrong? I can tell you’re trying not to think of something.”

 

Erik frowned and looked away. “You don’t remember,” he said finally, his voice flat.

 

“No. What are you trying to avoid telling me?” His voice wavered slightly.

 

Erik continued not to meet his eyes. Charles seemed heavily medicated, but this was no worse than the condition they had found him in. Erik feared what the consequences might soon be of whatever he had gone through at Shaw’s hands.

 

“It’s the drugs,” Charles replied to this train of thought, “Don’t worry about that. It’s probably not lasting damage. Now tell me what’s happened.”

 

“I am worried. You lost control.” Erik swallowed and hesitated before saying, “You had to be sedated.”

 

“What?” Charles’ normally confident, arrogant voice cracked, and his face fell to pieces as the sound left his throat.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. I had the nurse lower the dosage so that you would wake up, but Charles…you were projecting to the whole facility.” Erik radiated a slight anxiety, but for, _at_ what, Charles could not be certain. Could it be fear at what Charles had done? Or, if Charles dared to think, could it be concern for Charles well-being? He would not risk looking, even if he wanted to. Not if he’d really lost control of his telepathy.

 

“God,” Charles exclaimed quietly. His shaking hand rose to cover his mouth and he let his eyes fall down toward the bed.

 

“They’re paranoid now, and scared.” Erik’s voice was still flat, informative, factual, but Charles could feel what was coming from his mind better than what was on his face, and he knew that Erik was nearly as rattled as Charles felt.

 

Charles raised his eyes to Erik’s. “Wouldn’t you be?”

 

Erik chose not to answer. Instead he said, “Raven says you’ve never had that problem.”

 

Charles shook his head slowly. He could feel his eyes becoming wet. He’d never had his control taken from him before. His telepathy had always been a part of him. But now…now he had the greatest urge to pull it all in tight and wrap it around himself to where it could never hurt anyone. If only he still had the control to do as much. Even now, his grasp on his telepathy was slipping away from what he could contort with his own will. “I haven’t.”

 

“What happened to you?”

 

He remembered small, disconnected things: instruments on a table, discomfort and mental pain sharing space with blurred faces, but he could glean a cohesive story from none of it. There were only imprints of a trauma he even now was not sure he’d have the capacity to recover from. Not after part of him had been stripped away. He felt raw. “I don’t know.”

 

 “You don’t remember?”

 

“Somewhat.” He paused and sighed, “A lot of it was the kinds of things you would do to brainwash someone. I was drugged for most of it. I’m really unsure as to why.”

 

“You don’t know what they were trying to accomplish?”

 

“No, I believe I was irrelevant in this. Frost was in my head for so much of it, though. I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off and he looked closely at Erik as he felt a swell of emotion from the man. Charles could feel the anger as if it were under his own skin, like always, but there was also concern riding at its edges.

 

“The CIA is scared, Charles. They want to drug you and throw you away somewhere.”

 

Charles found himself immediately thinking, _Well, that’s not really wrong, is it?_

 

Erik continued, “I can’t leave you here for them to do what they please. You don’t belong in a cage.”

 

“Erik,” Charles replied, somewhat more forcibly than he meant to, “If I’m losing control, I can’t-“

 

“You belong with _us._ ”

 

Charles sat up more and turned to fully face him, “And if I hurt you? Or Raven? Or one of the others?”

 

“We can find a solution.”

 

Charles leveled him with a stare. “You don’t know that. You don’t even realize what I could do to a person if I tried. Without being able to control this-was anyone hurt?”

 

“No lasting damage,” he said, “you really only scared people.”

 

“And what happened exactly?”

 

“Visions, mostly. Fire. Pain, though nothing serious.”

 

Charles let out a long breath and rubbed his hand over his face.

 

“I don’t want to leave you here, Charles.”

 

“I’m not going to be any use to you like this.”

 

Erik made a face as if he’d been affronted. Charles could feel the offence taken in the space between them. “You started this,” Erik began, “you brought all of us together. You asked me to stay. You’re going to be there when we finish it.”

 

Not knowing how to reply, Charles only stared. Finally, after a while, he looked away and said, “It’s unusual for you to be the more optimistic of us. I’m not sure I like the change.”

 

“You’re the one that wanted allies.”

 

“The circumstances were different then.”

 

Erik huffed a frustrated sigh, “Wouldn’t you rather have some degree of freedom or choice of what happens to you?”

 

“I-yes, of course, but I don’t know what’s wrong. And that worries me.” Charles eyebrows drew together and he leaned in closer, a conspiratorial whisper on his lips, “You don’t know what consequences there could be if I don’t figure this out.”

 

“You won’t figure it out here. You know that. You won’t have the chance.”

 

“Yes, well not in the city. I can’t…” Charles grew quiet and his eyes flicked away as if striking at an idea and examining it, “Perhaps if we were far from the city, it would be easier. Right now I can hear so many people that it’s splitting my head open and-“

 

“Where would we go?”

 

“Raven-Well, I own it, I suppose, but we have a property in Westchester. I haven’t been back in some time, but there would be enough room.”

 

“Enough for everyone?”

 

Charles chuckled humorlessly, “Yes,” he said. “There are enough rooms that everyone can have their own.”

 

“Then I suggest leaving the CIA and going there.”

 

Charles pondered this for a moment, his eyes resting on Erik’s before giving a quick nod.

 

“I’ll make arrangements with Raven, then.” Erik began to stand. “I can also send her in here if you would like.”

 

“That would be best, thank you.” Charles stopped himself from reaching out and telling Erik not to go. He curled his hand into a fist and set it into his lap. As Erik moved away, Charles could feel the conciseness of every person in the facility bleeding more loudly and strongly into his head. Without the anchor of Erik’s mind close, he was afraid what may happen when he left.

 

But Charles did not stop him going. He only watched Erik’s back as he walked through the door.

 

\---

 

It was late when Erik returned. He waited a moment, watching for the coast to be clear before the handcuffs on Charles’ wrists detached themselves from him and the metal frame of the bed. The pieces of metal fell to the floor as Erik started to unhook the hospital machinery attached to Charles’ arms and chest. He pulled Charles gently toward him and scooped him up against his chest before walking from the room. Charles was unsurprisingly light in his arms and completely unconscious. The telepath did not even stir. Erik suspected the higher dose had been re-administered after he had left and was no longer there to intimidate the staff. Erik stepped out of the room and walked quickly through the halls of the medical wing of the facility.

 

Raven joined his side soon after, disguised as one of the staff. “This is a stupid idea,’” she whispered. Erik chose to ignore her. She continued, “We don’t know how bad off he is. We should at least wait to make sure the doctors do their job.”

 

“Are the rest of you ready to leave?” he asked instead, without turning to look at or otherwise acknowledge her.

 

Raven grabbed his arm and her voice dipped into something low and dangerous, “I don’t like this. We could be doing more harm than good here. You have no idea what he’s been through.”

 

He stopped and turned, leveling her with his stare. “I have ideas,” he said, “I know what Shaw is capable of. I know what this government is capable of. I’m not leaving your brother in their custody one moment longer. Now, you agreed to help me. Are the others ready?”

 

She hesitated before saying, “They’re in the van out front.”

 

\---

 

Erik was the one to pull Charles gently from the car once they arrived. He reached over him and unbuckled the seatbelt, the children giving him uneasy looks as he gathered the smaller man in his arms. He did not try to justify his earlier actions that had led him to this, nor engage them in conversation about it. He carried Charles toward the mansion, not bothering to hide his stare as he walked toward it. This was no mansion. This was a castle.

 

Charles shifted in his arms. _It’s not a castle._ He still appeared to be asleep, but had managed to attach himself to Erik’s thoughts. Erik found himself somewhat relieved to hear his voice again, even a disembodied one.

 

“It appears to be a castle to me.”

 

Raven gave him a curious glance and opened her mouth to speak. Erik shook his head.

_No._ Charles insisted, _It is a mansion. Castles look entirely different._

 

“It is much too large to be a house. What a childhood of hardship you must have had here,” he said with a mocking edge to his voice.

 

“Erik-” Raven started to say as Charles’ presence drew away from Erik’s mind.

 

“You couldn’t imagine.” Charles’ voice was light, though there was something else on the edge that Erik had caught before Charles’ mind had shrank away from him. Erik wondered if it were perhaps resentment.

 

“Charles!” The relief in Raven’s voice was undeniable. She stepped close to Erik, hand on his shoulder as she leaned in toward Charles’ face. He opened his eyes a short ways.

 

“Oh hello, dear. You’re here too.” His voice was soft and quiet, his gaze far off. He was not looking at her at all.

 

“I’m here. So is everyone else. We’re at Westchester. You told Erik to bring us here.”

 

“Oh, everyone. That’s lovely. Did I?”

 

“How are you feeling? Are you alright? You’ve been out for ages. Erik took you from the facility before the doctors could get a good look at you.”

 

“There was a reason for that,” Erik groused. He was ultimately ignored.

 

“I’m sure I’ll be alright with a small amount of rest. You needn’t worry.”

 

“I do worry. We all worry. We don’t even know what happened to you, Charles.”

 

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

 

“We should let him rest more,” Erik told Raven. “Asking so many questions is probably not the best idea at the moment.” She sighed and frowned, muttering ‘fine’ under her breath.

 

Erik stepped ahead of Raven and into the mansion once she had opened one of the doors. He managed after a few moments to slip away from the others, wandering through the old corridors and long passages, Charles slipping in and out of consciousness in his arms as he walked. His arms began to grow tired.

 

“Is it just us right now? It’s hard to tell. I’m afraid my control is a little worn down. My mind keeps drifting to everyone. It’s very distracting.”

 

“Yes, just us. Would you tell me where your room is?”

 

“Oh.” Charles was quiet for a moment. “Let’s...second floor, next to the study. Apologies. I haven’t lived here in a long while.” He’s paused, and then - “You’re carrying me.”

 

“I am.” They were moving up to the second floor, Charles noticed. Erik was climbing the stairs slowly, Charles held against his chest. Charles found himself surprised Erik seemed to be doing this so easily.

 

“You didn’t need to do all of this. I’m sure I would have been alright in the facility’s medical wing.”

 

“They had you handcuffed to the bed,” Erik replied gruffly, “So no, you wouldn’t have been alright.”

 

“Oh. Handcuffed. I can’t say I remember that. What for?”

 

Erik sighed and they stopped near the end of the corridor. A door swung open in front of him and he stepped calmly through.

 

\---

 

Erik laid Charles, gently as he could, on top of the dusty old bed. “Will you be alright in here?”

 

“I prefer if you would stay, at least for a while, if that’s no trouble.”

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“Good.” Charles did not move from where he’d been placed on the bed. His eyes drifted around the room for a moment before resting fully on Erik. “You can have any room. There are plenty on this floor and the first.” His expression settles into something soft and far away, “The boys have already settled. Raven has her own room on the first. I suppose I’ll be alone up here.”

 

“I can find one up here if you prefer.”

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Erik’s return smile was small and barely noticeable. He managed to find a chair to pull up next to the bed and sat down in it, watching Charles, looking over him. Physically he appeared fine, but Erik knew more than most how many scars Shaw liked to inflict were not only skin deep. “I was worried,” he said after a brief moment of silence.

 

“Oh?” Charles’ eyebrows rose. His gaze focused again. “About what?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

Charles looked confused for a moment and before saying “Oh. I’ll be alright.”

 

“I would hope so. You’re the one who brought me into this. I’d rather not have to deal with this little group without you.”

 

Charles managed a small smile, and reached out for Erik’s hand. Erik looked down, slightly confused, before hesitantly taking his hand and locking their fingers together. Charles squeezed.  “Don’t worry too much. I should have some time to recover.” He sighed softly, “It’s probably a good thing you brought me here. I don’t think the facility could have helped me much anyways.” He shifted on the bed, drawing a pillow down to gather it under his head. He seemed to be coming back to himself a little more now. “Don’t let Raven be mean about it.”

 

“I’m still concerned.” Erik leaned closer to the bed, placing his other hand upon it, “No one knows what happened to you. Raven is possibly more worried than I am. She’d never seen you lose control like that.”

 

Charles frowned and shifted his gaze away. “They wanted-she was breaking down shields because there’s something inside of me that they need.”

 

“Something inside of you?”

 

“I’m not so sure, Erik. All I know is that they were trying to wake something up and breaking my shielding down to do so. As I mentioned,” he said, looking up at him again, “I was heavily drugged for most of it.”

 

“Were they successful?”

 

Charles opened his mouth, but paused, hesitating over his words. He finally just said, “I don’t think so. I used Azazel to get away too early.”

 

“Good.”

 

Charles nodded in reassurance, but whether for himself or for Erik, he was not entirely sure.

 

Erik left soon after, sliding his hand out of Charles’ and leaving him time alone with his thoughts for the first time in so many days. He had not asked how long he’d been missing. He was not sure he wanted to know. He just hoped he could recover from this. He hoped that they all could.

 

At least the others were unharmed. Charles had the distinct feeling that if it had not been him, it would have been one of them, and that was not something he wanted on his conscience. Erik was obviously holding guilt on leaving Charles behind, but maybe it was for the best that he had been there for the children, even without Erik by his side.

 

Of course, without asking, he knew that the trip to Russia had been a waste of time. He wondered, if Erik had been with them would they have stood a chance, or would the outcome have been worse?

 

He rolled over in the bed, attempting to get comfortable on the musty sheets, and fell quickly into a light doze, passing the day away until the sun descended over the trees and the moonlight spilled in through his window. He could feel the minds throughout the house, too exhausted to attempt to control his range. It was soothing in a way to feel them settling in below. They were growing closer, and in the span of time Charles had been gone, they seemed to be developing strong common bonds. Angel and Raven were bickering happily in the kitchen. Hank was in the lab by himself working on some cure to do with his feet. Erik was watching silently as Alex and Darwin tested their ability in destroying the grass while messing around with their powers.  Sean was hooting at them, egging them on. Charles made a note to reprimand them about the grass later.

 

He rolled over again, and fell back to sleep.

 

The sky was dark when he felt Erik coming up the steps to check on him. The door’s hinges creaked as he opened it, “Charles,” he said softly, “do you feel like eating? Raven went to the store earlier.”

 

Charles cracked open his eyes and gave Erik a soft smile as he sat up, “I’m starving actually.”

 

Erik responded with a rare smile of his own. “Darwin decided to cook. Do you need help getting to the kitchen?”

 

Charles waved him off. “I can manage. Can’t have you carrying me everywhere, now can I? Just give me a few minutes. I’ll come down.”

 

Erik scoffed, a faint red blush coloring his cheeks, before backing out of the room and closing the door.

 

Charles came down to the kitchen several long minutes after Erik had left, spending a few of those just trying to make his legs obey him. He walked slowly, down the stairs and toward the kitchen to where the others were. They seemed glad to see him awake and about. Raven even more so. The talked excitedly as Charles watched them from the head of the table. He smiled softly, watching them, sometimes sneaking quick glances at Erik when he interjected or spoke up in their conversation. They all seemed so at ease with each other. He hoped to see this comradery grow stronger.

 

After dinner, Erik asked him to a game of chess in the study, to which Charles could not refuse, despite the off-kilter feeling he had been feeling since returning. Erik brought with him a bottle of whiskey. Charles declined to have one, still tense about his lack of control and alcohol’s tendency to make that worse. 

 

They settled into a game and back into one of their old debates.

 

He held his telepathy in check throughout the game and the conversation as best as he could, but he felt strained at the effort to hold it in and it flowed out of him despite his efforts. He tried not to look at the moves in Erik’s head, but it became difficult.

 

“Checkmate,” Charles said calmly. Erik did not look up. He held his hand lightly over his mouth in concentration as he stared down at the board. He missed the guilty look on Charles’ face, though he did not miss it in his voice.

 

“You were reading my moves,” Erik said. Charles sighed.

 

“I’m afraid I was. I apologize. It seems I’m having difficulty concentrating tonight.”

 

“You’ve had difficulty concentrating before, but you’ve never actively cheated as far as I’ve noticed.” His voice was light, but there was something else behind the tone and the emotion. Was it concern?

 

Charles frowned, “I resent that you think I would try to cheat.”

 

“I know you weren’t. Your control is still slipping. Wouldn’t the drugs have worn off yet?”

 

Charles glanced away and his mouth pressed into a thin line, “I should be fine in a few days once I can get it out of my system.”

 

The problem was that neither of them believed it. Before Erik could say much more, Charles excused himself and headed for his room for the night. Erik’s concern for him followed him all the way up the stairs before he managed to finally shut it out.

 

\---

 

The days in the mansion passed quietly for Charles, who spent most of them locked away in his room. Erik would check on him occasionally, and he would wave him away as if nothing were wrong.

 

Sometimes Charles would venture out to check on the students’ progress, wishing he could do more than just watch and worry that what Erik was teaching them was enough.

 

Or that it was the right way.

 

On the days Charles tried to help, he’d find himself sitting, exhausted after, holding his face in his hands as if he were fighting off a particularly painful migraine. The young students’ minds were much too loud for him to be near for any length of time. He was grateful for Erik, who would put his hand on Charles’ shoulder and tell him he’d done enough for the day. It would give him a reason to stand up and walk away. No one blamed him for it.

 

Charles could feel Raven’s constant worry as well. She had never seen Charles like this because this had never happened before.. He told her on numerous occasions that he was fine, but of course he knew that she was aware of the lie. She just was not so sure how bad it was.

 

She attempted to distract herself from further worry by growing closer with Angel and Darwin and the others, and in the process distancing herself from Charles.  He was glad that they were becoming comfortable there in the mansion, and that the dark thread that ran through both of them concerning their mutations and how people saw them both seemed to be growing fainter and fainter. Eventually Raven started to walk around in her true form. And though it was startling to see her doing this around other people, he realized that this change was a good one, and that Erik and Angel and the others were helping her feel more comfortable in her own skin. He was also glad realizing that she was safe to do that here.

 

He just wished she would wear more clothes. Honestly. Everyone else did.

 

He could feel changes in the others as well, especially Alex, who as he became closer with Darwin and began to gain more control over his abilities as the two trained together. Sean also gained more confidence in his abilities and control whenever Charles had the chance to instruct him, if he could push himself to come downstairs and watch their progress, that was.

 

Hank spent far too much time in his lab, and Charles spent time constantly trying to coax him out even on days he could hardly think through the migraines. The modifications for Alex and Sean were fantastic, but Charles found himself worrying about what Hank was doing in the lab in the meantime. He asked Erik to train with Hank in an effort to keep him occupied and focused on his mutation in a more positive light. He wished he could do more, but was relegated to sitting back and watching as they developed their abilities without him.

 

\---

 

Charles wanted to include Erik in the training, even as busy as he was trying to teach the others about their abilities. Erik was a different kind of teacher from Charles, of course, but he was effective, and he seemed to treat them all well, despite some of his harsher tendencies.

 

“We should work with your abilities,” Charles said early one morning, sitting on the patio, facing out across the property. His legs were crossed and he took sips of his morning tea. Erik sat quietly in the chair beside him, “I can see your potential, but if you were to push yourself, you would have much more to gain.” He took another drink, “I’m sorry I haven’t had much time to help out. You’re doing a fantastic job, Erik, but you know that you could use some guidance as well.”

 

He shook his head. “They train well, but they don’t take this seriously enough. The fight isn’t personal yet, but I fear it will be soon enough.”

 

“I know,” said Charles, “but I’m not sure what will motivate them, and I don’t know if I really want to. For them, this is the first time they’ve fit in somewhere.”

 

Erik sighed and began to tap his knuckles against the table, “If it had been one of them and not you they wouldn’t need the motivation. We both already know what’s at stake, but I don’t think they do. The possibility of threat alone isn’t the greatest motivator.“

 

“Neither one of us would have wanted them hurt.” Charles rubbed a hand over his face, “I know what you’re trying to say, but this is better.”

 

“There’s only so much I can say to them about the importance of this.”

 

Charles looked out over the estate for a moment, lips pursed as he contemplated something. He finally looked down at his tea and spoke, “Maybe I could talk to them. I haven’t been doing much of that lately."

 

“No one blames you for that.”

 

“I know.” There was a pause and silence descended for a few long minutes at the end of which Charles took a breath and began to speak again, “I don’t think they understand what happened, and that’s my fault.”

 

“How so?” Erik searched Charles’ face with his pale green eyes. Charles refused to look over at him.

 

"They think this is something I'm going to recover from."

 

Erik’s mouth pinched into a frown, “Possibly because you keep lying to everyone about how much better you are.”

 

Charles glanced over at him and then away again, “Possibly. I don’t know. It feels selfish to worry them.”

 

“Selfish isn’t the word you should use for explaining what you went through. I know what Shaw is capable of.” his jaw clenched tightly on one side, “I know it wasn’t pleasant.”

 

“This isn’t about me.”

 

“It’s about all of us. You included.”

 

Charles quietly took a sip of his tea before he looked over at him again, eyes lingering on Erik’s, “I’ll talk to them,” he said, “at least to Raven. If she’s concerned enough to work harder the others will too, I think. And I believe, when the time comes, they’ll do well.”

 

“We can only hope.”

 

Charles lifted the mug to his lips and drank the rest of the tea until it was gone. He stood and looked down at Erik, “Come on,” he said, “Let’s worry about this later. I have an idea for _your_ training.”

 

“Do you?” Erik stood, watching carefully.

 

“Do you see that satellite over there?” Charles pointed, and Erik’s eyes followed the long line of his arm to where the dish rose high in the distance.

 

\---

 

“Raven,” Charles said quietly from the doorway, “we should talk.”

 

“About what, Charles?” She was not looking at him, her attention focused out the window to the boys demonstrating their abilities to each other down below. She had been distancing herself from him lately, perhaps as she should, and falling in more with the younger occupants of the house. He missed the closeness that had been between them, but it was hard not to be glad that _she_ finally felt as though she fit in, even in her blue form.

 

There was always that fear in the back of his head that her showing herself to others would garner hatred and violence. Of all the times he had told her to keep herself a secret, it was out of this fear, and he was just now starting to realize that she resented him for it.

 

At least she was safe to be herself here, and he could not blame her for wanting it.

 

He sighed, and said, “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my condition.”

 

She turned to finally look at him, a question in her yellow eyes, “What?”

 

He came further into the room, stepping silently in and treading across the floor to where Raven was sitting. He sat near her, a small, tense smile on his face.

 

“I’ve talked with Erik about this already,” he began, “and we believe no one is really taking Shaw’s threat as seriously as they should. I have to admit this is partially my fault, especially for not telling you the... extent of the damage he caused me.” He paused for a moment to take a breath, focusing on his hands. “There’s so much more that I’ve kept from you as well, and I don’t believe I should any longer. You aren’t children. I should treat you like the young adults you are.”

 

“You’ve _said_ multiple times you would be fine. And what else aren’t you saying?” She leaned back in her chair, regarding him with a closed look, crossing her arms and shaking her head, “But at least you’ve been been talking to Erik.”

 

“I have, and I know that might not seem so fair, but I really didn’t want to worry anyone. I’m sorry. That was a mistake. I hope that, given what I’m about to say, this threat might not seem so distant and far away to you, because believe me, it’s right at our doorstep.”

 

“I know what’s at stake,” she said.

 

“I know you know. I’m not trying to be condescending.” he breathed another sigh, clenching his hands into loose fists, “I want you to know what’s happening and I want you to know how close to home this really is.”

 

“You never _try_ , Charles, it just happens.” She sighed. “But alright, say your piece.”

 

“To begin with, I’ve been avoiding the subject of my health for some time. I think you should know that it’s much worse than I’ve let on.”

 

"You're stalling," she said, "Please, just tell me. I can handle it."

 

"Fine, fine," he replied. He took a deep breath and then exhaled before continuing. "I've nearly lost complete control of my telepathy, and I don't believe it's going to get better. My control is erratic, and I'm afraid of harming one of you. They changed me somehow, Raven, and I-" he cut himself off, shaking his head. No one would understand. No one without telepathy would understand how dangerous this was.

 

How terrifying.

 

"Anyways," he began again, "you needed to know that. It's not something that I've been dealing with easily. If I've seemed absent more so than usual, I have been. It's often very difficult to even be in my own skin." He looked up at her again. "Beyond that," he said, "there's the issue of what Shaw is planning, and I believe this will affect both humans and mutants the world over."

 

Raven was quiet for a long moment, just watching him carefully. “Charles,” she eventually said, her voice a little broken. “You can’t keep doing this. You did this when we were kids too, when Kurt-” She looked out the window for a moment, watching as Alex and Sean took turns hitting their intended targets in the field below, before turning back to him. “You keep talking big about teamwork and relying on each other, but then when it’s about you, it’s like you forget we even care.”

 

Charles was not sure how to respond. He nodded, eyes no longer quite meeting hers.

 

“You’ve never lost control before,” she said, softer, kinder. “I mean, I knew… it was bad, just not… What are you going to do?”

 

“I wish I knew,” he replied. He frowned and unclenched his hands. “Maybe we’ll just figure something out later. For now, we should worry about Shaw and what he’s been planning considering the Cold War. I managed to glean some of the plan from Frost’s mind while I was there. I think the rest of you should be informed, and I wanted to talk to you first about it.”

 

“Alright,” she said, tension loosening in her mouth and shoulders, perhaps due to the sudden responsibility being placed on her and the trust Charles was finally giving her, “Tell me what you’ve learned.”

 

\---

 

He had called them all into the common area and spoken with them after his talk with Raven, and this seemed to have helped. Scaring them was not something he wanted to do, but they had to know the gravity of what they were facing, and Charles had to be sure that they would have the will to face an enemy he was not sure they were quite ready for.

 

Time was running out and they could not afford to lose sight of their common goals.

 

Several more days passed and Charles began to involve himself further in the training around the mansion. He pushed himself to participate, and though it earned him worried glances from both Erik and Raven, he knew that the added instruction he could provide may prove useful.

 

Forcing himself began to take it’s toll, however, and soon he found that his mind was rebeling stronger against him than before.

 

Erik discovered this one day, happening upon Charles in his study, “Charles, what are you doing?”

 

Charles was laying on his back on top of the large and intricate rug rolled out over the floor, his arm draped over his his face. He did not react at all to Erik’s voice when he spoke. He only laid there motionless, occasionally muttering something to himself.

 

“Charles,” Erik said again, louder this time, his voice more forceful.

 

“Oh.” Charles startled upright, propping himself up on his elbows and stared for a short moment before his eyes focused on Erik’s face, “Sorry, were you saying something?”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He pursed his lips before deciding how to answer, “Trying to ground myself, if I’m to be honest.”

 

“Ground yourself?” Erik stepped closer “Are you having control issues, Charles?” His voice was light, but his thoughts were anything but. Charles could feel the worry seeping off of him, “Are you alright?”

 

“I-” He hesitated, caught between useless assurances and the truth, “I’m not sure that I am.”

 

Erik kneeled down beside him as Charles sat up the rest of the way, “What’s the problem?”

 

“I can hear the city from here.”

 

Erik took a moment to glance out the window.“That’s quite the range. Was it so far before?”

 

“Not generally,” he said, brushing his hair back from his face, “No. And even then I should be able to limit it myself.” Charles looked down to his hands. He would get the odd, distorted feeling every so often he was a mind trapped in a human body.  He had thoughts that perhaps it could be due to some trauma he had suffered while in held by Shaw, or perhaps it was something else entirely. There was a small amount of fear in the back of his mind that something terrible would happen if he could not reel himself in soon.

 

“And there’s nothing-”

 

“I’ve been trying.” He looked up meet Erik’s eyes, “Normally I have shields, barriers, if you will, to stop things from getting in. But lately it’s as if I can’t even create a foundation for one.”

 

“What did they do to you?” Erik said quietly, more to himself than anything.

 

Charles answered anyways, “I wish I could recall, but I was drugged for most of it.”

 

“You’ve mentioned as much. How bad is it?”

 

“Have I? Oh, I really am losing it.” He made a pained laughing sound, “I suppose it’s something akin to imploding and exploding at the same time.” He cleared his throat, “So however bad that is.”

 

“Have you tried anything else to help?”

 

“Like what?” I’m not sure there _is_ anything else I can do.”

 

“Drugs, perhaps? It’s not ideal, but it’s a thought. I’m concerned that you can barely seem to function. Whatever was done to you wrecked your control.”

 

“I don’t think that would help much. To be honest, it would probably make it worse.” He let out a heavy sigh. “But it could be worth a try.”

 

“It could. I’d very much hate to leave you behind. This is your fight too, now.”

 

He gave Erik a long look, wondering how he could have gained such trust from this man. He licked his lips “I know,” he said softly after a moment.

 

 “Perhaps Hank will have an idea.”

 

“Perhaps,” he said. “He’s giving me a headache lately.”

 

“Is he?”

 

“He’s working on something to do with his feet. I was supportive at first. I know it’s not something you agree with, but keeping a low profile is at times the best thing as far as appearances are concerned. But he’s being a bit stupid about it, if I’m to be honest.”

 

Erik looked slightly amused. Charles continued, “He’s not using procedure at all, really. Rather shoddy work all around.”

 

Erik stood after a beat and offered his hand,“I imagine he’ll learn from his mistakes.”

 

Sighing, Charles took his hand and began to lift himself up from the floor, “Not if it kills him first. I’m fine.” He brushed Erik’s arm away before he could even attempt to steady him. Erik drew his hand back, “I’m fine,” he repeated, softer, turning to look at him. He tried to smile.

 

“Are you running a fever?”

 

“..No? I don’t think so.”

 

Erik reached out, tentatively, to place a hand against Charles’ forehead, “You’re warm.”

 

“Oh,” he said, partially out of surprise as color rose to his cheeks, “I feel fine, physically.”

 

Erik dropped his hand, deciding not to push the matter. “Let’s talk to Hank.”

 

\---

 

“This isn’t right,” Charles said, staring at the readout. His face was drawn, and if Erik had to guess, he looked fairly alarmed. Erik was not entirely sure what he was looking at, but if Charles was concerned, Erik was certain he very well should be as well.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

 

“Of course you haven’t, Hank. That’s sort of the problem.” Charles pursed his lips, “The only thing that could be even remotely similar might be someone having a seizure, but this isn’t the case, obviously.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I have nothing. This isn’t how brains work. I-Hank you need to make sure this isn’t the machine malfunctioning.”

 

“I’ve already checked, Professor.” Hank came out from behind the machine and around the other contraptions strewn about his lab. “Whatever is happening to you is lighting up your brain like-like a beacon.” He twisted his hands somewhat nervously, “It’s manifesting physically. I wish we had a baseline to compare it to but..I don’t have the data from Cerebro. Unless we get in contact with the CIA again..” He trailed off and gestured to the activity readout, “This is your head. And it’s off the charts of normal activity.”

 

“I know I’ve asked,” Erik said, so quietly only Charles could hear, more worry threading through his thoughts “But what happened to you?

 

“I wish I knew.” Charles looked up at him to see his face drawn and mouth tight and pressed his hand against Erik’s forearm, “We’ll figure out something.”

 

Erik looked at him like he knew that Charles was lying.

 

\---

 

Hank was much better an engineer than he was a chemist, but the mild sedatives he had suggested Charles take seemed to be at least be kind of working. The migraines began to lessen somewhat and he appeared to be gaining some small amount of control back. He suspected with a more limited scope on his telepathy that would happen, despite his fear of losing control if not in full possession of his facilities.

 

As a result he spent more time around Erik and the others, and even began taking the time to instruct them more thoroughly, focusing on helping them learn more about themselves through their talents.

 

And when exhaustion overtook him and became too much while he was instructing, he would lean his weight against Erik’s side and no one seemed to mind, least of all Erik.

 

Conveniently, Erik was often there, and very rarely left his side.

 

\---

 

The day of President Kennedy’s speech brought all of the waiting to an end. Darwin had turned on the TV to find the president speaking about the embargo line, and everyone in the room knew instantly what had to be done.

 

Charles could feel the apprehension in the room, thick and heavy hanging over them and it followed them through the mansion and through the rest of the day. Assuring he would be alright for tomorrow, Charles retired to his room early with a migraine and a faint feeling of nausea that someone was experiencing on the floors below.

 

\---

_Sometimes he remembers in sleep who he is._

 

_Sometimes when he sleeps he can feel the last seconds of his father’s death, and the pain and fear shooting through him like a swift kick to his lungs._

 

_He collapses and for all the distance between them, he feels it in himself when his father burns alive in the lab. Charles, young, much too young, cries out, linked to someone so close to him for only the moments necessary to feel the pain._

 

_To feel the fear._

 

_And then the link fades, but this time he is not alone in his head. There are others. The maids, his mother, the butler, are all sharing the space with him. They cloud his mind and drown his thoughts._

 

_There is a strength reaching out to him, called by his anguish and the stretch of his mind. It is curious and great and it wraps around him and takes hold._

 

_He is not afraid, not yet. He is too young to feel that fear._

 

_He looks down._

 

_There is fire licking at his feet._

 

_There’s sand that he sees at his feet, sand and blood. He’s older now, in different company. The power is still there within him and now he can feel the fear rising to his throat. There are weapons moving in the water. Minds detect a threat. He reaches out and everything stops._

 

\---

 

Charles gasped awake. His hands grasped the sheets and he pulled himself up, curling in against his own chest until he could manage catch his breath.

 

“Pull yourself together,” he said to himself, “it’s just a nightmare.”

 

He waited, closed in tight around himself for a few minutes before he allowed his mind to expand, filling the halls and doorways and checking on the people closest. They were fine. His nightmare had perhaps caused them to become restless in their sleep, burdened with emotions that were not theirs, but there was not much that could be done now, with the state he was in. Charles swallowed and coughed. Rising, he walked toward the door and swung it open. His feet, softly padding against the cold floor, took him down the corridor to a now familiar presence in a once empty old room he’d known all his life. He knocked once.

 

Erik swung his legs out onto the floor and rose. He was quiet as he reached for the handle and opened the door. “What is it?”

 

“Is wanting to talk a good reason to let me in? I haven’t been able to sleep, and I could tell you weren’t asleep either.” His eyes were hopeful, his smile kind. Erik did not hesitate, drawing in a slow breath before he nodded, stepping back to let Charles in.

 

Charles was dressed in minimal clothes, his hair stuck to his forehead in a sheen of sweat. He smiled at Erik, though his expression appeared pained.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Everything is a bit wrong, isn’t it?” Charles brushed past him and walked a few paces into the room. “That’s what we’re fixing tomorrow, I would hope.”

 

“I suppose.” Erik let the door close on its own with a casual flick of his hand as he walked into the room after Charles. Charles sat quietly on the edge of Erik’s bed, disrupting the moonlight that had been spilling across the floor from the open window. His face was now effectively covered in shadow.

 

Before Erik could ask again, Charles spoke. “I was thinking that everything might not turn out as planned tomorrow.”

 

The bed creaked as Erik sat down next to him. “You have to be prepared to face that reality. Whatever it is.”

 

“I know.” He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, “It’s just that there are some things I want to do first, because I’m wondering where that will leave us.” He clasped his hands together and looked up to meet Erik’s eyes.

 

Erik hesitated, his brows furrowing. He faltered on a thought, assumed something he was not sure his body could follow. “What do you mean?” His eyes paused on Charles’ lips before traveling back to his eyes.

 

Charles watched him for a long moment, head turned so that moonlight spilled over his face. “Why are you so afraid of this?”

 

Erik’s voice rose defensively, “I’m not _afraid_ -”

 

“Aren’t you? If you’re worried about what other people will think, you’ll only find me quoting your own words back at you. You’re always saying how far we are above society. Tell me how this is different. The way I see it, Erik, these are just bodies. The details were never important.”

 

“This isn’t about that.”

 

“Then what is it about? You don’t have to make excuses to spare my feelings. Give me a real reason, even just a simple no, and I’ll leave now.”

 

Erik did not answer, and after a long moment, Charles sighed and began to stand. Erik reached out and grabbed his wrist before he could go anywhere, pulling him back onto the bed and half into his lap.

 

“Goddamit, Charles,” he said, and kissed him, arms circling his waist as they fell into the bed together.

 

\---

 

Erik woke with Charles’ warm weight against his side, hand on his bare chest, and face pressed against his neck. He began to pull away, and Charles stirred. “You should meet Hank in the lab soon,” Erik told him.

 

“Goodmorning to you, too,” Charles said, propping himself up on his elbows to look up at him. He smiled. Erik’s expression softened at the sight, and the corners of his lips lifted into a tentative smile back.

 

“Good morning. Now we should get moving.”

 

“Wait.” Charles sat up fully and pulled Erik by the neck into a long kiss, pressing his body fully against Erik’s. He pulled himself back, just barely enough that he was looking into Erik’s eyes for a few long minutes of silence. He wanted to memorize them in case-

 

Charles finally pulled away. He hoped this would not be the last day they had, sharing this kind of space they had only just started to have between them. He started to gather his clothes that had been littered across the floor and pulled them on. “I’ll leave you to your morning routine,” Charles said fondly, turning back for a quick glance before opening the bedroom door.

 

Erik watched quietly as Charles stepped into the hall and closed the door softly behind him. He wanted so badly to call him back but he did not. He rose from bed to ready himself for the fight to come instead.

 

\---

 

The morning proceeded smoothly, despite the tension in the air. The change with Hank, though, had been a shock and Charles was certain he should have felt during the night as it happened. Had he been so preoccupied with his own exhaustion that he had missed Hank’s transformation? Or had the dream been so strong in its emotional hold over him that it had drowned out anything else? (Or had he been too busy with Erik-no. He would not blame it on that; a distraction like it had not caused Charles a lack of awareness. His ever loosening control over his telepathy had). He was surprised at himself for overlooking Hank completely. Surely he would have been in a state of distress great enough for Charles to feel.

 

It did not matter, now, though. The time was too late to do anything now. This was Hank’s own doing, and whether it would cost him or aid him was yet to be seen.

 

The group assembled, all in their new uniforms, Charles assuring them that he would be alright enough to join them. He was, after all, as invested in this as (if not more than) the rest of them, and he would not be left behind to wait on the sidelines for them to return to him at the end of it.

 

\---

 

 _Everything was going so well_ , Charles thought as the plane began to fall. He wondered about Sean, who was god knows where over the water now. He was dimly aware of his own voice shouting Erik’s name as he tried to pull him into the relative safety of the plane. A sharp movement knocked him to the side, and everything started to slip out of focus. There was another hand in his, though – and then a shudder, and Erik’s body pressed against his.

 

The world felt so much louder now. Between the wind storm and a thousand minds watching them in awe, Charles was awash with it, unsure whether the stimuli were pressing against him or in his mind. The plane was no longer moving now, and he felt Erik’s weight lift off him, heard orders being shouted.

 

Erik’s hand in his again, pulling him up.

 

“How are you?” Erik asked him softly.

 

He turned to look up at Erik and nodded. “I’ll be fine.” His voice held more confidence than he felt, “I still can’t sense Shaw. It’s possible he’s wearing the helmet to keep me out. If you can get it off, I’ll be able to stop him.”

 

Erik watched him for a moment. Charles wondered if he was going to say something else until he nodded and said, “Hank is going to stay with you while you-”  He gestured at his temple.

 

“Okay.” He closed his eyes and took a breath, then met Erik’s eyes with renewed determination. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

 

He gave Charles a slight nod, then broke his gaze away suddenly, turning to the others to say, “I’m going after Shaw. You all know what to do.”

 

He could taste ash in his mouth. Something shuddered within him, fighting at weak barriers holding it back. It fell silent, but Charles knew it would try again.

The children – and Erik – were gone now. Charles found himself staring into the space that Erik had occupied, feeling the vacancy in his head.

 

Hank was asking him something but then –

 

Another shudder, heat pushing through his head, a terrifying power, and Emma’s cold hands on his skin, ice pushing into his mind.

 

But they had already done this before, hadn’t they? Heat rose in Charles’ stomach and through his hands, pushing Emma out and expanding himself across the beach.

He was everywhere now, pressed close as a reassuring presence in Erik’s mind, tracing Raven’s footsteps, hovering behind Alex and Darwin.

 

Angel had gotten Sean back, between the two of them flown back to the sand and the beach, trying to fight the winds as Janos threw them –

 

Then Raven, in Shaw’s skin, just long enough to distract Janos so Angel could be at his throat.

 

Somewhere else, on different sand, Darwin was holding his arms, gleaming metal, up against swords, Alex fighting a tail at his throat – and then they were gone –

 

And now he was Erik as the glass shattered and Charles could feel him again, fighting a strength mimicking that of the force of the universe, defending against a power he could not win without Charles’s help.  He was Erik, striving for his ultimate goal of killing his creator.

 

And then he was Shaw, holding the man still, dipping into his mind, keeping him frozen for the end he did not wish for but knew had to happen.

 

“No, _Erik_!” He pleaded, yelling at Erik, wanting him to stop and knowing full well he would not. “Don’t do this. Please. Be the better man!”

 

“I’m sorry, Charles. It’s not that I don’t trust you-”

 

Erik lifted the helmet over his head and Charles was left alone, Shaw’s consciousness filling his mind. Erik’s words in his head were silenced, and Charles’ own died on his lips.

 

And though he may have been able to let Shaw go and could have kept Erik from killing the man, he knew that Shaw had to be taken care of, and knew this death was necessary, as much as he wished it did not have to happen.

 

He also knew what this meant, and was terrified at what the consequences might be for him.

 

Charles had only ever felt the death of another so far inside his head once, so long ago that he could hardly remember anything but a distant pain and the space of his young mind expanding to envelope the mansion in its reach.

 

This would turn out to be so much worse.

 

For that final moment, submerged in the mind of this man, he became Sebastian Shaw. He became the one Erik spoke to, watching as that distant torment and rage burned in his eyes, remembering shooting the boy’s mother down in the pursuit of his power, and watching in the present as Erik lifted that coin that he had kept all this time and counted to three.

 

He could not be himself anymore, and frustration and betrayal in his own body across the beach seemed so very far away.

 

He was buried in the pain, the anger, the shame of losing when before it had all seemed so certain, and the vague sense of distant pride that Erik would go on to carry out his work. For that moment, he was frozen, caught in Shaw’s mind as the coin traveled slowly though his forehead, his brain, and his skull, shutting down the neural networks and disengaging the higher functions from the lower, filling the brain with blood and fluids. Agony cut a line through him in a sharp and grinding pressure, and it ripped through his head and filled his ears with the sound of his own slowing heartbeat, tortuous and slow.

 

Shaw felt every moment of his death, and so did Charles, as Erik stood, watching them die. He did not have to wonder if Erik realized Charles had been in there with Shaw. For all it did not matter, Charles knew he didn’t.

 

And for all of this, he could not hold a grudge against Erik. He would not have stopped this. He would never have let Shaw go, only for Erik, as much as he had pleaded with Erik that this _was not the right way_. He would experience death for this man, if only to protect him from death himself.

 

As the last thread of consciousness, shrouded in agony as it was, faded from his head, Charles was sure that a piece of himself had gone with it. He then collapsed, drained and ashen faced to the ground.

 

And suddenly, the dam, fragile and cracked, broke, flooding the recesses of his mind and calling to the ancient power as it had done once before. The borrowed energy that had been resting, pooling at the base of his mind surged, and it burst forth with such force that it physically threw Charles backwards against the wall of the jet, knocking the back of his head against the metal wall behind him.

 

The shock spread from his mind, through his fingers and his bones and to the floor at his feet. It trembled the sand and stirred the air. It fell upon the beach in waves and spread further and further out onto the rolling waters. Heat crackled beneath his skin and forced its way to the surface in the form of tendrils of flame, caressing him and dancing where they came to life across his body. And then the fire spread with such heat and force that it rocked the ground below and sent half of the beach into flames, including the ruined jet and much of the submarine

 

He blinked. His vision blurred and swam in front of him, shimmering like heat rising from asphalt on a blisteringly hot summer day; the flames rose around him and smoke filled the air with the acrid stench of melting plastic and burning cloth.

 

The physical, however, did not matter. He could feel intent. There would be guns moving in the water.

 

He rose to his feet. With a single thought, the world around him stilled, frozen stiff and unmoving.

 

\---

 

The shockwave sent Erik off his feet. He stood, shaking at the force of it, gasping on the hot and heavy air that now filled the room and knew that something had gone horribly wrong. He tore through the metal wall facing the beach and threw the giant slab on to the sand below, ready to fight through whatever challenge appeared to him next.

 

His energy and sense of empowerment at having finally just killed Shaw faded as his eyes fell on what was stepping onto the middle of the beach, facing the water and the ships ahead.

 

\---

 

Emma could only stare. The piece of power that she had carved out of the other telepath had finally broken completely free.

 

“He’s lost it,” she said, too quiet to be heard over the roar of the wind whipping sand around them. She looked out across the beach. Smoke clogged the air and the grass at the shore burned into ashes. Everyone else on the beach, Janos and Azazel, along with the other telepath’s crew, were frozen where they stood. Their minds were in anguish, calling out at the massive levels of mental activity falling over them. She could feel it, too, clawing at her mental shields, fighting to get in and control her too. She flinched back at the onslaught, unsure how long she would be able to stand this. She had felt it before when Charles had taken them by surprise and had escaped their compound, and she feared he may even get through again, no matter how prepared she was for it this time.  If she were to switch to her diamond form she would be more resistive but unable to use her telepathy. Without any intervention, how long until that burning force consume them all?

 

And could she even force a change if she tried?

 

This thing was not Charles Xavier, at least not the Charles she had met before, barely able to even keep her out of his head and unused to telepathic intrusions. He had progressed quickly from low defenses to actually nearly breaking through _her_ defenses. She had made a mistake in chasing the power he had locked deep inside himself. The price for her greed could very well be her life and the lives of many others across the world if this were allowed to go any further.

 

There was a sudden movement to her right as a huge slab of metal dropped onto the sand near her. She looked up to see Lensherr standing in the mouth of new tear through the side of the submarine. He was wearing Shaw’s precious helmet and standing shocked, looking on to the beach and toward his friend.

 

So, Sebastian Shaw was now presumably dead, killed by his protégé. She looked across the beach to where Lensherr was staring. Perhaps that had been what set the other telepath off. Xavier had somehow helped Lensherr kill Shaw, and the shock had driven him to _this._ She had no time worry about Sebastian’s death now, however, of all times. She did not fancy joining him in it just yet.

 

Erik leaped down from the submarine, body slowed ever so slightly as his feet hit the sand, buoyed by his pull on the gravitational fields of the earth. He caught sight of Frost and his face contorted in anger.

 

“What did you _do_?” His voice was venomous and loud against the roar of wind and sand whipping around him. He reached out his hand and slammed Emma into the nearest surface as he strode toward her. He held her there by her metal buckles and pressed her hard against the hull of the submarine, “What did you _DO_?”

 

“Stop!” she screamed, “You have to _stop._ I didn’t do this. He reacted on his own when _you_ killed Shaw. Isn’t that right? How did he help you? Was he inside his mind when Sebastian died?”

 

He shouted in his anger, a non-comprehensible sound leaving his throat and pressed her harder by his power against the submarine, her legs dangling in the space above the ground. “You’re responsible. You’re the one that did this to him. Whatever you and Shaw accomplished when you had him created _this_ and you will fix it.” The metal behind her began to cave in and wrap around her. He squeezed until she gasped for air, “Fix it!” He yelled. She shifted into diamond form and broke through the metal holding her in, tearing at it with her hands until he dropped her. He then raised his hand and a huge slab of the submarine’s side lifted off the sand, ready to crush against her.

 

“Alright!” she shouted. She could barely hear herself speak, “Stop! If I can’t do it, we all die anyway.” She shifted back from the shimmering diamonds and into human skin, glaring at him. “I’m your only chance of stopping this. It would be stupid to kill me.” Erik dropped the giant slab of metal into the sand and took a step back to let her pass, watching her closely for any risk of changing her mind or tricking him. His eyes followed her to the edge of the flames. The wind and sand buffeted against her and she raised a single crystallized hand to shield her face. Erik could not see Charles anymore, blanketed as he was by fire. And suddenly, watching the fire rise, he remembered the visions of flames and pain that seared his mind and left the taste of ashes in his mouth as Charles had laid unconscious in the ward.

 

Looking closely, he could see the flames taking the shape of a giant fiery bird, rising high into the air.

 

He could only watch and hope that Emma would be enough to undo her own mistake. That she would correct it, and that Charles would escape this unharmed, along with the rest of their group. The others were frozen in space, only him and Frost being left. The helmet gave him the advantage of watching this and knowing what was happening, but he was powerless to stop any of it.

 

\---

 

Emma knew she would never be strong enough by herself to stop the entity that had taken up residence in Charles Xavier’s head. She had to formulate a plan, and quickly, or they would all be dead in minutes.

 

She stood at the edge of the flames and as close as she dared to the broiling heat of the power’s core. Breathing became difficult through the heavy air and sand whipped into her face, stinging her eyes and flying into her mouth and nose. She lifted the edge of her white cape up to shield her face and protect her lungs.

 

She could tell without throwing her mind very far that this force was not evil. A being of this magnitude and breadth did not exist on the spectrum of good and evil. It just was; and the Earth was an anthill under its boot. Whatever it was, there was no malintent. She entertained the notion briefly of reasoning with it, but knew from a glance that it would not be interested in such things. It was beyond mortality and would not bend to their will. She hoped instead that she might be able to locate Charles in this, and prayed that he was still there to grab on to.

 

She took a deep steadying breath and dove for his mind.

 

\---

 

Fire.

 

He remembered standing in it as it swirled around him, spreading across sand and onto the grass behind him. What was left of the jet was burning now, from where he had trailed it behind him, stepping onto the beach.

 

There were guns moving in the water and minds directing them to fire.

 

Time splintered and he was himself again, minutes earlier, feeling the coin pass through Shaw as Erik killed him. He screamed. The gates opened, finally. At last, the beast broke free and all he saw were burning embers falling in the wreckage around him.

 

He remembered things that did not make sense. He remembered the start of the universe in chaos and light, and the end of it, swallowed by darkness. He knew all of this, though he was not there for it.

 

(But in some sense he was. Now joined to the Phoenix, it seemed as if he always had been and would always be so.)

 

Time was not moving in the right direction. Maybe it just did not exist for him.

 

The Phoenix’s power was vast and terrifying. It stretched further and wider than Charles could even fathom, and the fire inside him was only a small part of the power he knew existed beyond his reach.

 

Charles could feel himself moving, but he was only a puppet on strings. He felt disconnected from his reality, unsure of where he was anymore. The beach was a moving picture, far away from his influence and control. Emma Frost was shouting at Erik, his newly acquired helmet gleaming in the sun. Erik was yelling about Charles. He could not bring himself to care. There was too much effort in emotions and sentiments. He looked about the rest of the beach. The others were frozen where they stood.

 

Let them stay there.

 

The missiles were not a threat. The people weren’t either. How silly that they thought they had any chance against something so vast and powerful. He had the power of the universe at his reach. Their missiles were nothing to him. He stopped the mortals; he dug in and plucked the thought from their minds and implanted another one.

 

_There is nothing on this beach._

 

They turned their thoughts away, the emergence of the mutants unknown to them, the day shrouded in a cloud of knowing what had happened without remembering much of it. Charles power spread further, hundreds of miles across the sea and inland.

 

None of them would remember.

 

They would only know the Cold War threat was over, and not of the mutants that had defended them. Their crises was of no real consequence, he found, but some far off objective of someone else losing a handle on himself, someone yelling and screaming but never to be heard. Slowly Charles felt as if he were fading into ash in the air and leaving something else inhabiting his body behind him.

 

He turned, and saw Emma Frost, white against the backdrop of the fire and the sand, standing tall and proud before him. She had been the one to shatter his shields and break this part of him free. He was caught between being thankful for helping him reach his potential and wanting to destroy her for touching something so beyond her reach and comprehension.

 

 He felt her stretch her mind and aim for his core.

 

He reached out his hand to stop her but she slipped past, not attacking him, but finding the part of him that showed the most weakness. What she found was the part of him that was still Charles Xavier, and her mind fell into his, engulfed by the flames of The Phoenix around them.

 

-

 

Charles was buried so far that he no longer knew what was fire or what was _him._ A part of him, far away and quiet, reminded him about Erik, about clear blue skies over a wild beach, but he could not bring himself to care enough to claw out of… this. Trapped was the wrong word. It was more like drowning, constant waves of heat like salt water filling his lungs, slowing down the movement of his thoughts the way limbs slow in water. _The beach_ , the small voice whispered again, but the fire was louder, a roar of power and safety, of stillness.

 

He could only think that this did not belong to him anymore, that he was merely the fuel for the inferno. The fire whispered about absolute power, but it did nothing to let him guide it.

 

 _You can do anything_ , the fire said, sharp in his mind. _You could be a god._

 

For a moment, he was a child again, powerless against fists against skin, powerless against idle thoughts of wickedness snears in his direction. He was a child again, in an maelstrom of fire, powerful for the first time, strong enough to stop his own suffering, strong enough to fight back. Everything this life had done to him spread out in a nearly infinite line, every injustice, every transgression.

 

The fire whispered, _Never again_ -

 

The images cracked and shattered into shards of piercing ice. A portion of the fire faded with the cold wind, revealing the woman in white standing behind him.

 

“This is your fault,” he said to her, his face neutral, his voice without inflection. He was surprised he had a voice at all anymore, that it was not burning with everything else.

 

“I know,” she said, “But this is your chance to stop it.”

 

He took a breath, suddenly aware that this was not real in the sense that breathing should be. He turned to her. “I can’t.”

 

“So you’re going to let it kill them?” She shimmered in the landscape, some moments more diamond than skin, her power only giving her the strength of a mirage in a heat wave.

 

“Kill who?” The landscape started to shift.

 

“The men on the ships. In the water. The missiles. “ Her voice faded in and out, like a phone call that was not quite connected.

 

He began to look around. The fire was growing higher. “Where are we?”

 

She did not seem to hear him. “Are you going to kill them?”

 

He was not breathing. He didn’t need to. “We’re in my mind right now.”

 

“Are you going to let them die?”

 

Charles shifted his feet slightly and felt the sand move beneath them.  “We’re in my _mind_.”

 

“Have you given up? Is this too much for you to stick to your ideals? Those men will die. Your friends will die.”

 

“Stop,” he said. He shook his head, stumbling back, forcing the images of death from his head. He could not bare for this to happen, but he knew that he did not have the power to stop it. How could she tell him that they would die and not see that he could do nothing push back a power he was not sure he could even catch hold of? They were in his mind. How was this something he could stop?

 

“Stop talking.” Her words brought the images of death to mind, pushed a burning picture of reality toward him, but he could not stand to face it. His friends would die. Those men would die, but he was trapped in his own mind

 

Her image flickered as the fire licked at her, engulfing and devouring her. And then she pushed forward, face shimmering and turned into a grimace of pain and concentration. She fought against the flames, and suddenly her cold, faceted diamond hands fell against his blistering skin and he could see.

 

_Emma kneels in the sand at the edge of high flames, hands cradling her head, face twisted in determination. Erik stares, helmet catching the sunlight, worry and fear written across his face. The others are frozen, held still by the unseen power Charles knows is in his hands. Their minds are screaming. They’re staring at a bird that rises high in the air, body made of fire and smoke. Charles stands engulfed in the center._

 

_He has to stop this._

 

_The ground shakes, and flames spill closer to the others. Emma can feel the heat battering against her skin, but she tries to ignore it as she forces her mind against Charles’._

 

_No, he thinks from within her vision._

 

_This must stop._

 

\---

 

There was a tension in the line of the connection between them, stretching thin, pressure mounting. And then suddenly it snapped and broke apart, severing their minds from each other. Emma was thrown backwards by another tremor. She landed on her back in the sand, eyes wide and breath short.

 

The fire was receding.

 

\---

 

Charles knew who he was, knew what he had to do, knew that he must, beyond any doubt, retake his body for himself.

 

He was no puppet, and he had the strength to hold this thing back, assured by the fact only in that he had found a way to do it before. As a child he had blocked it out without even knowing what it was, constructing barriers around what he thought was his own power to save himself and others from his immense strength.

 

Though this being of ultimate power and fire had been with him for a very long time, and he had never quite known what it was, he knew without doubt that was dangerous. The Phoenix, as he knew that it was called in the way he knew people’s thoughts and emotions, was far more terrifying and powerful than Charles, but it would not use _his_ body as any host.

 

He pushed against the fire clouding his mind and drew from his own strength every last drop of willpower and resolve that he could rip from his core. And though they were still trapped in the planes of his thoughts, a landscape constructed by the two of them where fire and sand swirled in the thick air that pushed its way toward him, Charles imagined his true power, untouched by the Phoenix, and as he did, it manifested in front of his eyes. It was clear, and blue, and in a calm swirl it rose from his hands and stamped the fire out, chasing it until it no longer clogged his senses and filled his head.

 

Though he could not defeat it, he could claim his body back from it. With that thought, he sent it from his head.

-[1] 

 

\---

 

The fire receded, pushed back by an invisible force and vanished into the air. Charles’ knees hit the ground and Erik ran for him, sliding into the sand to catch him as he fell forward. He threw the helmet off and Charles watched it come to a stop at the water’s edge. He blinked, took a breath, and lifted his head to look up at Erik.

 

His features were obscured by the harsh sunlight in Charles’ eyes, but he could see Erik’s profile, and could feel Erik’s hand as it cradled his head. The smell of burnt ashes and saltwater mingled in the air around them, and in a stretched moment of silence, all he could hear was the the soft sliding of waves against the beach and Erik’s breathing as Charles lay in his arms.

 

“Charles, are you-?”

 

Charles swallowed and nodded as he finally caught Erik’s gaze. “I’m me,” he said softly, so that only Erik could hear. “I’m me. It’s okay.” He let a weak, shaking hand reach to touch one of Erik’s.

 

Erik let out a ragged breath and nodded. Charles noticed that his eyes were wet.

 

There was a pause, and then movement from the others on the beach as they began to cautiously approach.

 

Charles’ mind, formally stretched thin and at the verge of ripping at its seams, now felt so small and tight around him in comparison, as if it had snapped back into its old shape. He did not dare to stretch it, too exhausted to even attempt to use his power again. There was a small fear at the back of his mind that his telepathy may be permanently damaged from the strain, but he forced the thought to the back of his head to worry about later.

 

He took a shuddering breath and began to sit up, leaning away from Erik’s arms. His eyes scanned the beach and fell on the kids and on those they had just recently been fighting. They were all standing a safe distance away, staring at him. Charles could feel fear at the edges of his senses.

 

He also knew none came from Erik, who stared at him with such concern and worry on his face that Charles could only smile weakly at him and say, “I’m fine. I’m me. Let’s go home.”

 

Erik nodded weakly. He could feel an exhaustion in both of them, the unbelieving emptiness that emotion leaves behind in its wake sometimes. There was only the relief of the danger that had passed, drowned by pain and a numbness of emotion stretched too thin. He could faintly hear Erik’s pulse, wild and fast still against the slow sound of waves. Charles’ own breathing still came hard won.

 

“Can you stand?” Erik said after a moment.

 

In the distance, Raven had begun to approach them, realizing what Erik was just starting to be cautiously sure of.

 

“I think so, yes.”

 

He let Erik help them both up to their feet, and leaned most of his weight against him. The exhaustion was seeping into his muscles now, but at least he had Erik’s arm firm around his waist to anchor him in the sand.

 

By the time they were steady, the rest of their group had gathered closer around them. Raven’s gaze met Erik’s for a moment, and that seemed to be enough to reassure her.

 

Hank was the first to speak. He looked around helplessly at everyone present, glad for the ceased fighting, but unsure of what to do next, “What now?”

 

Charles glanced at Erik and then back at Hank, licking his dry lips. “I think we should attempt asking for a lift home,” his eyes traveled toward the red-skinned teleporter at the edge of the gathered circle. Emma stood nearest to Charles and his group, looking only somewhat pleased with herself. Janos stood uncertainly beside her, and Azazel at the back, looking as if he knew full well what Charles was about to ask. He nodded once and stepped forward. No one stopped him. Charles reached his hand out and took the teleporter’s hand in his own.

 

\---

 

_EPILOGUE_

 

\---

 

The sunlight snuck between the curtains and left gold lines stretched across their bodies. Charles had forgotten how to wake up with his whole body loose with sleep, to feel the cool sheets as he shifted awake instead of the heat and sweat of dreams that were not quite his.

 

Beside him, he could feel Erik move, that slight tightening of Erik’s arm around his waist as he woke up.

 

The rest of the house was silent, still wrapped in quiet dreams, even their new guests. Maybe it was strange to foster one’s enemies as easily as one’s friends, but Erik agreed that it would be wrong to turn them out lost into the world again.

 

“I can feel you thinking,” Erik muttered into his ear before kissing the skin beneath it.

 

Charles laughed softly. “Did you now?” he muttered back. “But I thought I was being so quiet.” He rolled over to face him, ending up half on top of him in the process.

 

Erik made a quiet noise in agreement as Charles leaned down to kiss him.

 

“What’s on your mind?” he said, reaching up to brush Charles’ hair away from his face.

 

He sighed, settling his head on Erik’s shoulder and allowing his body to relax again on top of him. “We were so set on stopping Shaw and getting me stable that I don’t think it ever occurred to me that there was going to be a future after this.” He let his fingers trail along Erik’s arm. “I want to keep finding other mutants, I think. With you, if you’ll stay.”

 

Erik took a long, slow breath as he stared at the ceiling. “How do you know this will work? That one day our disagreements won’t overpower this?”

 

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t, really. I just know that I want you here as long as you’re willing.”

 

“I won’t just sit here and be complacent as the humans-”

 

“Erik,” he stopped him with a soft word. “I never said I didn’t think we should fight back. I just don’t think we should fire the first shot.”

 

“They’ve already done that.”

 

“I know, but it won’t seem that way to the rest of the world.” He sighed and propped himself up on an arm so that he could meet Erik’s eyes. “I want to keep finding others, particularly children. Maybe start some sort of school for them. They’re what matters. They shouldn’t have to grow up thinking they’re alone anymore, don’t you think? We’ll fight back when appropriate, but I want to do more than just that.”

 

There was a long, tense silence, before Erik finally relaxed and said, “Alright. I can’t guarantee you forever, but-”

 

Charles cut him off with a kiss. Forever was not something he expected. What he had here and now was more than enough.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Shatter, Burn"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/960844) by [sunryder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunryder/pseuds/sunryder)




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